


I do not see it

by Morgue_XiiV



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: Ableism, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt, Police, Racism, Slurs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:55:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29863275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgue_XiiV/pseuds/Morgue_XiiV
Summary: Lieutenant Kitsuragi is not like his colleagues. For some reason he doesn’t “work well with others”, politicking for promotion doesn’t come easy to him. He doesn’t really fit in at precinct 57. But every RCM officer doing fieldwork needs a partner.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	1. Thursday March 8, CC51

Composure, challenging, success; You stand, your back ramrod straight, as usual. Before you, Cullen has a box with everything from his desk. You know it’s everything. You packed the box. He was allowed to come in to collect it, but not to pack it.

Rhetoric, medium, success; Packing for himself would be too much time on-site, but judging by how he phrased it, the captain thought sending you to his home to hand his stuff over would just add another murder to the precinct roster; and leave them even more shorthanded. Here there were too many witnesses. He couldn’t even hit you.

Halflight, easy, success; He bitterly wants to.

Empathy, average, success; You do not feel guilty.

Perception (hearing), trivial, success; It is unusually quiet in the dingy open-plan workspace shared by the majority of Lieutenants and Sergeants who are not currently on patrol. Everyone is leaving one ear free to hear him yell at you.

Esprit de Corps, challenging, success; No-one will intervene. No matter where he takes this, no-one will stop him short of physical violence, and even then, they will let him get a couple of blows in. Send him home with a warning. Even now, they are on his side. He is their half-brother. You. You took him away.

Empathy, medium, success: You do not feel guilty.

Kim Kitsuragi; “I’m sorry things worked out the way they did, Dom.” You say, softly. It’s too soft for anyone else to hear. Your audience. They want you to prostrate yourself and ask for forgiveness. His forgiveness, their forgiveness. They want you to be sorry. You won’t perform that for them. Your apology is as weasely as you can make it. You’re not sorry for what you did. You are not sorry for what the Inspectorate did. You are sorry for what  _ he _ did.

Rhetoric, easy, success; He knows it. He understands. This is not the apology he wants. Not the one you  _ owe _ him.

Dominic Cullen; “Fuck you, you don’t get to call me that. You call me Lieu…” he trails off with another bitter snarl, adds, “Mister Cullen. You don’t call me shit, binoclard, I don’t wanna hear my name on your lips ever again. Ever.”

Pain threshold, moderate, success: He has never called you a binoclard before. You think everyone else in the precinct has. Everyone from patrol officer up, anyway. The support staff might not have. Not to your face anyway. Gracie-May, who does a lot of the filing wears glasses, and she has been there for an age. Far longer than you. So they’re used to it. A bit more tolerant.

Mr. Cullen; He scowls at your unmoving face, and continues, “I mean. For fuck’s sake I can’t believe this is how I lose my job. Over this. Because I’m  _ such a nice guy _ ”

You can’t help quirking your head with curiosity there. He lost his job because he’s a  _ nice _ guy?

Dominic “Nice Guy” Cullen; “I mean, I accepted you as my partner. After you got your last partner  _ killed _ , no less? As if anyone else in the precinct was willing to team up with some bino fag from juvvie  _ anyway _ .

Composure, challenging, fail; You finally wince. Just a little.

Pain threshold, impossible, fail; Oh there it goes. He’s hitting the main notes now, in the symphony. The music never changes. The purpose of a new arrangement is not to innovate, merely perform the same tired cliches from the ever popular song. Whatever instruments are on hand.

Halflight, average, success; Fuck. He knows now. He knows he can hurt you. All the old words, the ones he has seen you laugh off or remain utterly immovable in the face of. Every one of them can hurt you now. Because  _ he’s _ said them. It’s time to perform the song. It’s not creativity or expression. Its purpose is to reduce. Reduce you to the caricature of what someone sees at first glance. Erase it all. Every moment you thought he might  _ know _ you.

Empathy, challenging, success; You do not feel guilty. You do  _ not _ feel even a twinge of guilt.

Pain threshold, practiced, success. You do not feel  _ anything. _ You are stone. You are stone. You are stone.

Espirit d’ Corps, impossible, success; His lip curls. He’s pleased. He’s not just pleased to see the crack. He is pleased with himself. Not for insulting you now. He’s pleased with the three years, three years of absolutely solid friendship. Of never aiming a harsh word at any of the bulls-eyes life painted on you. Pointing out evidence without calling you a binoclard. Slobbering over women in magazines arranged on motor velocipedes in their underwear, without ever calling you a faggot when you explained, with a polite smile; yes, you agreed she was good looking, if a little thin. Spitting “Why would he? Is he gonna go on holiday there? We get 1 week off a year and we’re not about waste two days of it each way crossing the fucking pale just for fresher kimchi.” when that damn lawyer quizzed you, why can’t  _ you _ speak Seolite? It was all worth it, for now. For when he  _ really _ needs to hurt you.

He raves at you, calling you blind, calling you scrawny, calling you a clumsy liability.

Composure, formidable, success; Now you know it’s coming, you can keep the mask. 

He calls you ugly with an intimacy, he is as close to you as a lover. He can mock lines to your profile most people wouldn’t even notice.

Pain threshold, challenging, failure; It doesn’t hurt  _ any _ less. You just don’t react.

He  _ was _ that close. Past tense, scorned. You were never lovers. He knows you better than you would let most of your sexual partners, but now he can express disgust without shame.

Halflight, moderate, success; He knows this. He knows it’s working just fine even through your immovable face. Every time you climbed into your motor carriage at the end of the day, let your head roll back against the seat and quietly admitted that you suffered after a particularly verbose torrent of racist, ableist or homophobic epithets, he was learning. Your stony face means nothing.    
  
He moves to calling you a homo-sexual. You still don’t react, but your eyes open a fraction wider. This is very, very bad. There’s talk, of course, but he  _ knows _ . And what he’s saying is downright graphic. He’s clearly given it a lot of thought. 

Esprit de Corps, easy, success; With an internal sigh you realise this is truly what he’s always thought of your sexuality. That it’s perverse and bordering on scatological. That you debase yourself and are incapable of love. And now everyone in the precinct will be visualising it. A different man might be able to laugh this off. That laughter would only seem desperate on you. Your complete lack of reaction, a core habit dating back to some of your earliest and worst childhood memories, is a well recognised defence. It won’t be enough to kill the rumour influence of this.

Perception, general, easy, success; As you expected; no-one interferes. One or two of your fellow officers snicker openly at parts. Most of them are not that brazen.

Empathy, heroic, success: You do not feel guilty.


	2. Friday March 9, CC51

You eat your lunch in the breakroom. It’s not worth going out to eat. Normally that’s what you would do; go out with your partner to a nice restaurant. There was always one that has either ongoing concerns with the safety of the area, or has been victimised in the past.  _ He  _ was very good at finding them. Negotiating a mutually beneficial arrangement with somewhere grateful to have the stabilising influence of the RCM close, and in a good mood. The restaurant would find you something delicious that was made in too large a quantity. Something fresh that doesn’t keep well, or something that kept well overnight. Technically you could label them ‘leftovers’, but they were luxurious ones and you both knew that ‘leftovers’ is a rich peoples’ conceit. They would set you up a table where you could eat and drink and laugh for half an hour in your 12 hour shift. Feel normal. Not just normal, but actually like the wealthy people around you. Care-free. Enjoying haute cuisine you would never be able to afford. It was a highlight of your workday. 

Pain Threshold, preemptive, success; It would be miserable alone. Empathy, formidable, success; You do not feel guilty.

Physical Instrument, easy, success; So you sit in the breakroom, with its flimsy plastic chairs. They were donated from a school, and are barely large enough for you- let alone your mostly much beefier colleagues. They don’t  _ hurt _ exactly.

Interfacing, moderate, success; But, they sort of slant forward and the desire to fidget and tilt the chair back is maddening.

Composure, moderate, success; You are too old, too mature and, frankly, too clumsy to risk that. You maintain your poised and contained posture as you re-assemble the sandwich you brought with you. 

Interfacing, practiced, success; you keep the saucier ingredients separate until you’re ready to eat it so it doesn’t get soggy. This has received uncharitable comments in the past because wanting your food to not be horrible is “fussy”. 

Logic, easy, success; The room is fairly empty because lunchtime is staggered across shifts. Usually your partner would be here. You don’t have a partner. 

Satellite Officer Sayle; “So. You got quite the talking to, Kimball.” 

Esprit de Corps, easy, success; Up until last year, he was one of your sergeants. He never treated you with respect, even when he was under your direct supervision. He was promoted to almost but not quite your equal after a mere two years service. Because he  _ “works well with others.” _ It’s interesting how easy it can be for some people to work well with others. For  _ some reason _ the people who are very good at working with others tend to be white hetero-sexual men.

Rhetoric, easy, success; He speaks with a barely-masked gleeful tone. You don’t bother turning around. The smart thing to do is subtly imply you’re surprised he knows. You can chastise him for doing nothing without really saying anything. 

“Oh, you saw that?” you remark casually. He sees through this. He is well aware whose side the organisation is on, and he will not accept shaming. He is willing to say very loud what you expected him to merely think. 

S.O. Sayle; “You gonna fuckin’ report me, Kimball?”

Composure, challenging, success; “For what?” You turn now, keep your voice airy. This can’t escalate. Any hint of a reprimand should be quashed immediately. But you’re not about to be nice to him. You cannot impress him with much of what he values in a man, but you can impress him with your cool.

Esprit de Corps, trivial, success; Level headed Kitsuragi. He might be,  _ You know, _ But he won’t get all emotional, like a  _ girl _ . 

S.O. Sayle; “Yeah, I didn’t  _ escort him off the premises in a timely manner _ ,” a sneer and sarcastically he adds, “sorry.” He doesn’t stay, anyway. The room’s tiny and the chairs suck. No-one wants to eat here. At least you are alone.

* * *

The captain calls you into his office after lunch. You stand before his desk. Your hands clasped behind your back while you wait for him to speak. Ordinarily you would try to make small talk or ask what he wanted to talk to you about. Now, you don’t.

Empathy, moderate, success; You sense his hostility while he looks over you. He is disappointed in you. But of course he can’t say anything. He is not stupid enough to voice any of his feelings on this topic. Not that it would matter. His views are not as unpopular within the organisation as he would tell you they were.

Precinct 57 Captain; “I don’t think I can find you a new partner.” he says, once he can no-longer reasonably make you wait any longer by theatrically shuffling papers around his desk.

Composure, challenging, success. You show no outward response to this

Precinct 57 Captain: “It’s just hard. You have your Kineema. It’s a zippy little thing. It’s not so dangerous for you to go on patrol alone for a while.” 

“It’s not just danger,  _ sir _ . A partner is important. For accountability.” You say this as if he’s not your senior, as if the protocols of the RCM are news to him.

Esprit de Corps, easy, success: He certainly acts like they are. He has not  _ studied _ them with fervour. He did not dream of this while waiting for the mandatory anti-institutionalisation period to pass. He just. Fell into it one day as a nice macho career that got him a little respect.

Precinct 57 Captain; He snorts. “Right. Accountability. I know that’s important to you.” 

Rhetoric, easy, success; The mask slips. It’s important  _ to you _ . The captain recovers in a smooth, politicking voice. “Accountability is important. But IA has seen enough shows of good faith from you. They’ve signed off on you  _ flying solo _ for a while.”

Rhetoric, moderate, success; The emphasis and his choice of words are pointed. He’s seen the A5 poster you shyly pinned to the divider board by your desk. He might have seen you building a model aerostatic after hours while waiting for a call, or for Cullen to finish paperwork so you could drive him home. They never come out quite right. The kits you buy are cheap and you’re not good with glue. But it’s relaxing when you would really like to be at home already. When you’d really like a partner who keeps on top of his half of the paperwork, or at least doesn’t make it your problem if he has to walk home.

Suggestion, heroic, success; He’s hoping you will simply nod and leave. You do not. Hold your ground. He will make a conciliatory gesture.

Precinct 57 Captain; A generous sigh; he had to plan ahead and take a deep breath to show this depth of reluctance. “A call came in this morning. It’s in Martinaise.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware we policed Martinaise. Sir.”

Precinct 57 Captain; “No, but then, no-one does. They called us. They called 41. I spoke to Pryce. Hashed it out. We’re each to send one or two officers to represent. To work together. And.” This pains him. This isn’t what he wants to do with the situation. You’ve been patrolling alone for a fortnight now; he fucking owes you and he knows it. “I think it would be prudent of you to take the case. 

Esprit de Corps, difficult, success; There’s a rivalry at stake here, with the 41st. You don’t care about it, but nearly everyone else does. That makes you the worst choice for this case, in his eyes. No-one else in the precinct will be happy if you take it either. If they could hate you more right now, this would make them. But they can’t. So you might as well take it. You accept graciously.

Precinct 57 Captain; “Excellent! You and the other detective, or detectives, can solve it together. It’ll be good for you to work with someone new for a bit. Someone with no preconceptions.”

Internally, you laugh. There are always preconceptions. Yes, now, perhaps the precinct thinks of you as a rat. But from the moment you started, preconceptions were on the scene. Maybe the detective from 41 will not think of you as an IA shill. But he  _ will _ have preconceptions. Unless you are partnered with a new-born baby. New born babies don’t make the best detectives. Either way, it won’t be that easy.


	3. Saturday 10 and Sunday 11 March, CC51

Martinaise. 

Savoire Faire, easy, success; You show up in uniform. You want to make a good impression. On some level you know that stuffy old uniformed cop isn’t actually a  _ good _ impression by the standards of most Lieutenants. On the other hand, a good impression can just mean an  _ accurate _ impression. Immediately visually demonstrating your intent to be Extremely Professional. 

Conceptualisation, moderate, success; It will be great if you get an Extremely Professional fellow in return, but you prepare for a dick swinging cop to show up, demand you play pinball so he can laugh at you, then try to cut you out of the case. For two days you almost wonder if that’s what’s happening. Is he just investigating behind your back? Fuck him. You fail to make contact for two days, trying to locate him for a few hours in the morning, then giving up and driving around most of the day. 

While Cullen was on leave for the Inspectorate General’s tribunal process you took a lot of flak. You were sick of the impression everyone had of you. The inflexible, the moralist shill, the one who never has any fun. It made you a little wild, truly. You were alone. You weren’t assigned any cases and you weren’t technically even supposed to be on patrol, so you played traffic cop. Traffic cops don’t really need partners, you assured yourself. There’s little that can go wrong pulling over some speeding motor carriage just before the GRIH roads split to the larger motor tracts. You could immediately tell from the kid’s pupils he was  _ on something _ . You could tell from his ID he had connections. It wasn’t going to go far when you arrested him. He knew it too. 

You confiscated his spinner hubcaps. They were pretty. They were flashy, impractical chrome. Totally porno. You technically logged them into evidence, but they bore no relevance to the case so no-one from prosecution took them. They sat in evidence for a week before the kid’s summons was degraded to a warning. Another couple of days to see if he wanted to fill in the form to have them returned. Then they were yours. Now they rattle around in the cage at the back of your MC. Occasionally you glance at them. You enjoy their colours as the sodium street lighting catches them while you drive.

Inland Empire, easy, success; You fantasize about putting the spinners on your Kineema and seeing Cullen out in the world. He would be drably dressed and wandering the streets trying to find a new job. You? You would be flashy, your bright orange jacket contrasting against the chalky blue painted motor carriage as you let your arm dangle out of the window. He would ask you about the spinners, and you’d gesture lazily with your cigarette,  _ “Oh these? Mhrm, I took them off some MI kid. They’re cool. I’m corrupt now. I turned you in to get the rat squad off my back. So I could drive alone and bust kids for car parts. I never cared about you, the people, or the rules. I care about car parts and smoking.”  _ You grin lazily letting your slightly crooked teeth flash in the sunlight. Even in your thoughts it’s too absurd. You smirk to yourself. 

Will they be impressed, in your precinct, if you solve this thing and get the Martinaise problem off their plate? Of course not. Why not just let the officer or officers from the 41st solve it? Drive around until it’s done. No. Again, absurd. You wanted this case. You wanted it handled professionally. But you wanted it handled. That has not happened so far. It can’t go on. Tomorrow is Monday. You will meet him. Get to it. He has been living on site and getting up at 7am. By the time you drive to Martinaise, negotiate your way past the blockades or part and jog to the scene, there is a trail of bemusement and you have missed him. But not tomorrow.


	4. Monday March 12, CC51

**Morning**

It’s 8am. By this point you have abandoned your plan to wear uniform. Since moving to casual wear, you only kept one set. It now has seagull shit on it. It will demonstrate more than enough professionalism that you act cordial after his avoiding you for two days, anyway. He’s not going to be impressed by “poise”. If that wasn’t clear by the behaviour you’ve heard murmurs about while chasing him, it is  _ immediately _ clear from his outfit. Before he even fully resolves in detail to your tired astigmatic eyes, the sheer colour palette. His outrageous outfit is not the point. The point is he is here and you can finally catch him. Perhaps it’s paranoid of you but you stand directly in the doorway so he can’t try to slip past. You’ve been awake since 5, so if you blink a little too long he could probably run away again. You haven’t slept very well all week, so getting up at 5 wasn’t easy, but it’s worth it. You fold your hands behind your back and stand poised beside the pinball machine. Conveniently it is no longer working, so he can’t harangue you to show off  _ skills _ , he will have to make any pinball jokes sight-unseen. 

Interfacing, moderate, success; Disabling the pinball machine without damaging it, and without anyone noticing was well within your abilities, and two days of skulking around the Whirling in Rags trying to find the 41st’s officer gave you ample opportunity. A little innovation you allowed yourself, in desperation.

Esprit de Corps, medium, success; There are a lot of indignities involved in even getting to this point. But, it’s worth it. Someone to bounce your ideas off. Someone whose skills can complement yours. A team mate. A new partner.

  
Logic, trivial, success. temporary partner. This is not a solution.   
  


Empathy, moderate, success; This sensation is loneliness.

Visual calculus, trivial, success; First he doesn’t seem to notice you. He tries talking to other people, until they direct him at you. Stonewalled and practically on the verge of stamping is feet like a child, finally he stands before you, saying nothing. It looks very much like he wants to get through the doors and is only waiting for you to move. Passive aggressive? no… he seems genuinely a little bewildered. Does he not know who you are? Maybe the uniform  _ would _ have been a good idea.

You introduce yourself. God, he won’t even tell you his name?    


Rhetoric, challenging, failure; He’s mocking you. He doesn’t like you. Something about the name “Kitsuragi” sticks in his throat and he won’t give you a name in return.

Composure, moderate, success; You act like you don’t know. Just. Carry on as normal. Maybe he’ll warm up to you. Maybe this will be solved by midnight and you can leave. If you behave with enough dignity, you do not need him to  _ afford you _ anything.

41st’s Detective: “How do you know I’m a cop?”

Rhetoric impossible, failure; Is this a test? 

“I’m here to meet and collaborate with an officer from the 41st precinct. You’re here, and you’re wearing the insignia.” You let your eyes wander over the cafeteria. He does not seem satisfied, so you continue. “I suppose I don’t. Not really. You could have purchased the insignia on the black market or forged it yourself. You could merely be pretending. This is not my concern. I’m not from the inspectorate general.”

Rhetoric moderate, success; Odd choice of words, there. You’re distancing yourself from them, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Perhaps he hasn’t heard about your little run-in with them, after all.

41st’s Detective: “the rat squad?”

Composure challenging failure; You wince, but it’s barely perceptible. Is he goading you? News of your “rat” status could very easily have made it this far. Particularly if the captain named you as the detective he was sending.

“There’s no need to call them names. They’re only doing their jobs.” 

_ Barely. Just barely doing their jobs. _ You wait for him to sneer. You don’t see one, instead he merely asks “This insignia?”

Rhetoric, moderate, failure;  _ What was that _ ? So much for distancing. What kind of cop defends the Inspectorate General?  _ Only you. _ Pft. Now he’s fucking with you again. You explain the insignia, but do it in as patronising a tone as you can muster. Like his  _ little game _ is only making  _ him _ look stupid.

You softening your tone at his continued plaintiveness. You begin to wonder if it’s genuine. “There is no such thing as a police officer. I’m afraid. There is only a dead body, A murderer who could still be on the loose, and civic unrest. A police officer or not, if we don’t untangle this, no-one will. So, you carry on. You just do your job.”

Suggestion, challenging success; and if you  _ do your job _ , you’re the best cop I’ve worked with in 3 years.

41st’s Detective: “Shouldn’t I have a badge?”

“You don’t have a badge?” 

Rhetoric impossible, failure; If this is a test you don’t get it. Whatever he’s testing you for must be very hard. You’re sure he’s mocking you. But. He hasn’t mentioned pinball. This is a new and novel sort of cruelty. Just go with it. Ha ha ha, yes, you get it, you’re a rule following machine. So you cite him some rules. Here’s what you do if you’ve lost your badge…. Oh, no, you do have it? What a relief. Please. Let’s this case started. 

**Afternoon**

Visual Calculus, trivial, success; His ledger reveals 3 perforations.

Empathy, moderate, success; You scan the unknown detective, HDB, his face. He truly does not seem to know what they mean. So you explain, adding, “For all your years of service, and in your precinct, it’s rather mild.”

Rhetoric easy, success; He will take that as a macho insult. At least qualify it.

“I mean that as a compliment.” You let your gaze wander down the Rue de Saint Ghislaine and continue, “There are some officers who treat their kills as a sort of ghoulish game. If they do manage to solve a case, it is by accident,”  _ or because their partner was up until 2am following their leads _ “You do not appear to be one of them. You are, or were, a valuable member of your precinct.” 

Electrochemistry, easy, success; Yesyesyesyes this is the one. Keep him. 

Logic, easy, success; You can’t keep him. This union is temporary.

**Evening**

You stand, more casual now that it’s after-hours, on the balcony. “It’s about power projection.” 

HDB: “What if someone resists?”

Very cautiously. You begin to answer. “As you probably realise from seeing a record of your kills in your ledger, We are authorized to use force.” A beat. “Even lethal force.” Was that delicate enough? You can’t hide it. 

HDB: “And if I kill someone on duty?” He asks. His face is like a curious child. He does not seem eager. Still. He is disoriented. Perhaps even brain damaged. He is wild and you saw that  _ gleam _ in his eyes when you handed him your gun. Better he just shoot at corpses than the loud wild things calling out obscenities. He cannot know how little oversight there really is.

Conceptualisation, difficult, success: The RCM is nothing to him. He is a blank slate. It could be anything. Describe the RCM of your dreams.

Drama medium success; “You are expected to appear before Internal Affairs. And explain why the use of force was necessary.” 

_ if they have time _

“In these cases your partner is usually your witness.” 

_ And expected always to be a witness  _ **_for_ ** _ you _

“It’s not good. The investigations are very thorough. Cross examining everyone, looking for inconsistencies.” 

_ If the inconsistencies are glaring enough and they cannot look away. _

“It is almost impossible to ‘cover for’ anyone” 

_ It’s not even that I didn’t try. It simply cannot be done. _

There’s a pause, Harry’s open innocent seeming face awaits your verdict. You conclude; “As it should be.” 

_ I didn’t try. Why would I? He killed… _

Empathy; heroic, success; You do not feel guilty.

**Author's Note:**

> Finally I post my take on why Kim doesn't have a partner, if in fact, he doesn't and just never mentions him out of desire for privacy/lack of particular attachment to them. 
> 
> This is my first attempt at making something gamefic-like. I'm conceptualising Kim's skills as being dry narrators offering takes that seem objective (of course no-one is immune to check failure and cognitive bias) That's how I imagine him, lacking his interior dialogues and monologues, to experience the METRIC skill system. This felt just natural enough to me I didn't even notice the difference. 
> 
> I considered posting this with custom Kim skills but don't feel like it "needs" that. I may update it to use a different skill set at a later date if I end up tying it in with something else. I'm chaptering roughly by day, which means short chapters, but don't worry they should come relatively quickly. 
> 
> Thanks muchly to beta readers, the cool people who patted me on the back while I cried about how much I hate making decisions.


End file.
